I Can Hear Them Whisper
by pedal
Summary: I still hate songfics. This fic is based off the song Unwell by Matchbox 20. It's no songfic. Heiji tells the story of ConanShinichi's crumbling sanity. A little freaky. Oneshot, pairing: RanShinichi


I Can Hear Them Whisper

Written: November 2004

Disclaimer: Detective Conan belongs to a dude way cooler than I could ever hope to be.

Author's note: Based on the song "Unwell" by Matchbox 20. Not a songfic.

Dedication: To Arif. The coolest, most helpful, most confused beta I have. Go short man.

I Can Hear Them Whisper

By Pedal

Kudo had been lying on his bed, staring upwards. His eyes would occasionally dart around, as if watching something up there. It was Saturday and Rachel had been home from her half-day at school for several hours. Kudo was still recovering from his little incident and cold. It seemed odd somehow- even though he stared blankly pretty often, thinking about his 'condition' and Rachel, it was almost as if he was looking at something this time.

Actually, it was my bed now since I was welcome to stay a couple of days before returning to Osaka, which I accepted in hopes of helping Kudo get back to his life. He slept wherever he pleased now, which was usually in my room on a futon on the floor or Rachel's room.

The setting sun threw random shadows of the trinkets that were strewn across the windowsill onto the walls and ceiling. His false glasses that he had carelessly removed, his bowtie, and a couple of books took nearly frightening shapes on the white spackled ceiling. Another thing struck me; as his eyes flew across the shadows, they didn't close. He wouldn't blink.

I kept expecting him to toss out a comment as I stood in the doorway of our room, watching him watching nothing. My breath waited, baited for him to say something like, "What do you want, Hartwell?" So much that I began speaking, not really knowing whether or not he had started the conversation.

"Making imaginary friends, Kudo?" I retorted to the silence, grimacing at the taste of the salty sweat between my upper lip and gums. He didn't move, so I sucked my teeth loudly. At this, Rachel groaned from the other room, signaling her wish to keep 'Conan' and me separated.

Hearing Rachel didn't even faze Kudo, which was just outright wrong. I remained where I was for about a minute and a half, my gaze flicking back and forth between the alarm clock on the nightstand and Kudo's perplexed face, which was still glued to the ceiling.

Suddenly, as I had been quickly glancing down the hall to catch one of Rachel's occasional peeks at me to make sure I was keeping Conan intact, I heard the bedclothes rustle. He simply turned his head to me, giving me a surprised stare, like he had just woken. I shuddered and finally admitted to myself that he was being creepy.

"What is it, Harley?" he asked, blinking with wide eyes, as if Rachel or any other outsider could hear us, but no one was in earshot of his words besides me. His voice was actually innocent even though he had no reason to fool me. Along with his tone, he had actually used my first name. He knew we were alone; he had to.

My lips thinned and my eyes narrowed as I walked swiftly away, telling him with my gestures, if he didn't already know, that something was messed. When I was just entering the main room of the apartment, I breathed a sigh of relief as Kudo called, "Harley!" in the exasperated, sarcastic tone, which sounded so much more natural coming from him. Rachel watched me, confused at my smirk and stark change of direction, probably wondering why I looked so content upon communicating with 'Conan.'

There he was, this time sitting on the edge of the bed, glaring for all he was worth. "What do you want, Hartwell?" he spat, shivering slightly.

"There's the good old Kudo I know," I said, realizing I had nothing of importance to say other than asking about his spacing out. "You still keeping together in that fat little head of yours?" His eyes widened again, but not with the childish innocence of last time; they were shocked and aged now.

Slowly, he nodded, still startled. Reaching behind him, he grabbed his glasses, telling me, "I'm fine," in a grave voice. As soon as he had his disguise on, his eyes fluttered, obviously still waking up. "Don't worry about me!" he said cheerfully, his eyes sparkling with childlike wonder again. Kudo hopped off the bed and ran clumsily past me to where Rachel was. Little kids ran a certain way, and I hadn't seen Kudo do that until just then.

-

"I'm not tired," dejected Kudo's groggy voice quietly, somehow waking me. The clock read around one in the morning. Sure enough, Kudo squirmed on the floor, his blankets twisted around his tiny limbs. I couldn't be sure whom he was speaking to, if Rachel or her father had entered inquiring or if I said something in my sleep, which I never did. With a start, I noticed that I had not seen him sleep all night.

"Conan," he murmured. Through the dark, I could also see that he was staring again, seeing everything and nothing. What bothered me the most was the sense that he was neither awake nor asleep. Shushing whatever he had been talking to in the first place, his whole form silenced, and I let my head drop back onto my pillow. "Leave me alone," I heard him whisper before I was completely out again.

-

While Rachel commented happily on the choice of dining, Detective Moore nodded, laughing, already drunk. In favor of the recent payment of the Tarrington case Kudo had solved upon my arrival to Tokyo, my rival had called Rachel as himself to inform her that the money would be theirs since he was still away. Also, Camille Tarrington had called on for the great Detective Richard Moore, not Harley Hartwell or Jimmy Kudo. Later, he had me wire the generous check to the Moore's bank account. We found ourselves dining at the exclusive Kikugawa, a traditional Japanese restaurant.

Reentering the private tetami room from the hallways of the restaurant, Kudo knelt between Rachel and me, crossing his legs after a couple of seconds. She and I ignored Maguire's and Moore's toasts to one another while Kudo went to sipping his miso without a word, not to mention glance at either of us. "Conan?" we both asked. Because I had actually put feeling into his name, replacing the usual sarcasm that dripped from it, I was surprised to find myself actually concerned.

Not noticing my strange tone, he continued nursing the small bowl, humming absently. There was no tune in his subdued voice; he was only mumbling with his mouth preoccupied. Rachel leaned down and ran her hand through his dark hair maternally, softly asking him, "You okay, Conan?"

Flustered, his bowl clattered safely back onto the black marble of the table, and hot blush seized control of his face. Laughing nervously at Rachel, he regained his normal self as well as his composure, however little he had. One hand flew to the back of his neck. "Just zoned out there! Sorry to worry you."

Rachel cocked her head and giggled in return, only making Kudo's face grow redder, if that was possible. With a melancholy smile, he attempted to stab the tofu in his soup with chopsticks sheepishly until our main course came.

After the various dishes were handed out, Rachel and I carried on a conversation about him in his supposed absence. As Conan, he listened (aware of his surroundings now), peeved at me for making Rachel pissed and depressed over him. Occasionally, he reached over and poked or elbowed me in the stomach.

At one point, I mentioned with a laugh that her Jimmy was probably getting drunk at some dive in America. This earned me a good jab in the crook of my arm, so somehow the small remainder of my ramen broth was splashed onto my sweatshirt and jeans. "Whoops," said Kudo insincerely while I stood.

"Conan!" scolded Rachel, but anything she said after that was inaudible as I headed to the bathroom to clean myself off. Most likely, she was making sure he'd apologize as soon as I returned. Chuckling, I threw open the bathroom door.

My eyes lifted to see the long mirror above the sinks shattered and in pieces all over the black room. Shards glittered on the floor from the over-lighting, showing me my surprised expression in the pieces that were still on the frame, along with the sinks and the floor. It was hard to touch anything, and I realized painfully that I had forgotten my slippers at my seat in the tetami room. Hissing from the pain, I sensed a presence behind me, and turned to see Kudo with the door slowly shutting behind him. "Rachel said I have to say sorry. So... I'm sorry." I nodded, clenching my teeth.

"What do you think happened in here?" I asked him civilly, one detective to another. His eyes avoided my wincing ones, and he absently kicked a piece of glass, having remembered his slippers. "Jimmy... You didn't do this, did you?"

His eyes went wide again, and drained empty. "Yeah... he did it." I left.

Limping out with a dirty outfit and bleeding foot, I yanked the postage stamp-sized chunk of mirror from my right heel and returned to the private room, informing a passing waiter of the incident. No doubt they'd keep it quiet. Kudo- no, he wasn't there; Conan followed calmly behind me.

Maguire, Moore, and Rachel watched the blotchy red trail I left as I hopped back to my pillow and sat. I hastily explained that a clumsy busboy had dropped a glass near me and I had accidentally stepped on a piece of it. Luckily, no one pointed out that a drink glass wouldn't be thick enough to make such a deep wound. Conan blinked curiously at the blood, and then at me. "Are you sure you're going to be okay, Harley?"

"I'll live, kid," I shot back with a smirk, ruffling his hair. Underneath I shuddered. Rachel smiled warmly at us, as if we were both her Kudo, her Jimmy, but she only wanted us to be.

As soon as Maguire dropped us at the agency, Rachel led me upstairs to patch up my foot. Getting her to let me change clothes first was a bit difficult, but at least I didn't smell like ramen anymore. My next outfit was an old baseball shirt that I left unbuttoned and gray pajama pants. Kudo was back, standing at the doorway of the small bathroom, watching us. I sat on the closed toilet while Rachel's back was turned since she had to face me. Kneeling on the floor, she went to work.

Slowly, she pulled down my right sock, afraid to disturb the wound. She wiped it down with rubbing alcohol, which stung like hell. Next, cream antiseptic and a bandage were applied and finished off with tape to keep it on my heel. By then, the message had made it to my brain that I could have done all of that by myself. All the while, Kudo knew this and glared, hurting at me.

"Rachel... You didn't have to do that," I said stupidly as we rose. Quickly, I replaced my hard exterior and the cocky grin on my face. I continued confidently, "You're Jimmy's girl. You should be taking care of him." Next thing I knew, she had thrown herself into my chest.

My arms flew around her to keep my balance; my foot was responsible for this. Kudo looked like he had been shot. Sighing, I held Rachel at arms' length and tightly gripped the charm around my neck. "I'm sorry that I'm not him," I said quietly, pressing my forehead to hers before I passed her and Kudo on the way to my bedroom.

Kudo shuffled in after me, clad in his little green pajamas. The shirt wasn't buttoned all the way, making his left shoulder evident, along with the purple patch of skin that covered it. Also, a bruise covered his left temple that I hadn't seen earlier, yet its coloring told me it had been there for a while.

He just stood there with that horribly pained expression. His stare dropped to straight ahead, his eyes fluttering. Conan looked up at me, still sad, but without the longing and hurt they had had before. "What's going on, pal," I demanded as calmly as I could, cursing myself for not keeping my voice steady.

"What you talking about, Harley?" he replied simply, and I cursed under my breath when Rachel appeared behind him. Immediately, she dropped to her knees and carefully scooped Conan into her arms.

"Oh my god, Conan! What happened? Harley, did you," he cut her off.

"It wasn't him. It wasn't your dad, either, Rachel. Jimmy got mad at me," he explained, his hair falling to cover his blank eyes. What was this? Did he want Rachel to hate his real self more? "Don't be mad him, please." Rachel couldn't do anything but stand there and let what Conan had said sink in while Kudo gasped slightly and dropped his head onto her shoulder.

Slowly, I realized something, what Rachel was still only subconsciously piecing together. The way his eyes were to one extreme one second and then changed the next. The way he spoke of himself in third person around me. The way he loved Rachel. They all fit together, like the pieces of a case.

So Conan was telling the truth, in a sense, about Jimmy roughing him up. He passively clung to Rachel as she showed me with a weak look that he was staying with her for the night. In return, I nodded, trying to ignore whatever reason inside of me was making me feel so bad for him. Clumsily, I stood to turn down my bed.

When Rachel pivoted to walk to her own room, I saw for a split-second a horrible weight in her eyes. They showed the exhaust and pain she had gone through, which was so much more than anyone her age should have. Sure, Kudo had been through hell and back, but Rachel had lost the love of her life and was thrown a kid to take care of. She was a high school girl who should be out with her would-be boyfriend, and here she was watching over a little boy. Then she was gone. I went to sleep.

-

"Hey, Hartwell, I'm supposed to come kick your ass out of the sack."

"Get lost, Kudo," I replied to the rude, shrill voice that had brought me out of my drowse. With an obnoxious yawn, I yanked my head off my pillow and sat cross-legged on my bed. "Are you happy?"

"Orders from above: get dressed and get your butt to the table in ten minutes," snapped Kudo, placing his hands on his hips authoritatively.

An exchange of glares, a set of annoyed huffs, and I was up nudging him out of my room with the ball of my bad foot. As soon as I set it back down on the floor, heel first, I screamed. Kudo burst out laughing, holding his sides and his glasses on his face. Rachel's warning shout of death sounded, making us jump into action again. "Five minutes, guys!" Kudo looked ready to bolt, but I grabbed him by the collar of his sweater, remembering Rachel.

"You and I are going to have a little talk later, alright?" I told him, making sure his eyes were level with mine and his feet no longer reached the hardwood.

"Yeah, yeah, just put me down, muscle-head." From there, I dropped him, allowing him to scramble out of the room with a sore little ass.

-

"What was that?" slurred Kudo lazily after Moore's random inquiry of his hair. Setting down a comic book, he ran a hand through his hair, getting a look on his face that he was mentally smacking himself for realizing he wouldn't be able to feel the color change that Moore had mentioned. "You're kidding, Richard."

From my perch cross-legged on the kitchen counter, I helped Rachel make macaroni and cheese for all us kids; it was her hour lunch break from school. She sang to herself happily, deafening herself from the quiet conversation her father and charge carried. My attempt at stretching to peek at Kudo's head landed me on the floor. Rachel tapped my head with her foot lightly through my gasping.

"Why the hell would I make something like that up? Go see for yourself in the mirror if you don't believe me." I could see clearer now. Moore leaned back in his desk chair, as if to resume a resting position. His eyes fell shut.

So Kudo hopped off the desk and shuffled to the bathroom. Scrambling to my feet, I clamored after him, displaying the least amount of dignity I remembered ever having at the Moore agency.

Once we reached the bathroom, he used a stool to meet his reflection and began to study his dark hair. "There," I muttered to myself. Upon removing his glasses, he immediately spotted the patch of ash white that I had already identified just above his right ear. "I remember hearing some where that you turn white young if you have a huge trauma," I threw out.

A barely audible growl came from Kudo while he turned and walked off the plastic stepstool. "What did you want to talk to me about before," he demanded quietly, pushing past me.

We walked back to the living room where Moore now slept, snoring heavily. It was the perfect screen for keeping our discussion from Rachel. "You, Kudo," I stage whispered, my eyes beginning to narrow.

In the same volume and annoyed tone, he snapped, "What is it!"

Still, I was wheezing from having the wind knocked from my lungs when I so gracefully fell off the counter. "It's more what you're doing to Rachel. And yourself, I suppose."

His body, not to mention his face, flared with anger. It was like he really didn't want me to care, since I really hadn't until then. "What am I doing!" he hissed, fuming.

My heart jerked, but I relished the painful feeling, letting it drive me. "Can't you see it," I began, "Rachel's experienced so much more than any girl should have to when she's sixteen! She needs the person you've become. She needs Conan while Jimmy is gone, and if you can't keep yourself together, she'll break, too." My throat stung dully. "She'll fall apart like a dead flower, and you'll hate yourself for it. Take care of yourself to take care of her."

The glare of Conan's glasses hid Kudo's eyes. Rather than whispering, he spoke softly. "I'm doing the best I can. I'm doing all I can to find the jerks who did this to me, to find an antidote...

"He's trying to kill me." Indeed, Kudo was still speaking. "That's why I did this," he snarled, pulling his sweater collar to the side so his shoulder's bruise was visible. "No," he corrected himself, shaking his head, "It's not possible. I made Conan up; this isn't logical."

For a moment, his head twitched, making him hold it steady by his glasses frames. I pulled my fists to my shoulders and then threw spread palms down with a jerk of my body. "Then do something about it!" Saying this, I snatched the bottle of Chinese liquor from Moore's desk.

Kudo, swaying, lamely tugged the bottle from me. He clenched it between his knees to unscrew the cap. All the while I could do nothing but watch dumbly, my mind processing that I had gone from barely caring to making it my main goal to correct. With both hands, he held the seemingly enormous bottle to his mouth and began gulping it down quickly. Finally, I found it in me to jump at him and smack the liquor from his loosening grasp. "Are you crazy? That much alcohol is fatal to a kid your size!"

The bottle clattered to the floor and spun to meet Rachel's feet, spewing clear liquid along the way. She had just entered the room, balancing a bowl on her arm with one in each hand. Luckily, she hadn't heard our last exchange of words. Her curious, almost angry eyes rose to meet mine with certain impending doom. "What is wrong with you?" she cried after the words traveled from her brain to her mouth; her expression changed several times as they did so.

She set the steaming dishes down swiftly and stood up not three inches from me. Even though she looked terrified, Rachel sounded about ready to murder me. "Conan's just barely recovered, and you're going to make him sick again! Get rid of that stuff right now!" Her arm shot to point behind her, and I sidestepped her to pick up the now empty bottle.

Conan had since found the couch and slumped to the floor leaning on it. Rachel sighed worriedly and placed him on the cushions. "It's my fault Rachel. I thought I was getting worse, so I wanted to drink more of Harley's medicine," he croaked, sticking a finger in my general direction. Rachel, all signs of anger gone, dropped to her knees in front of the couch and ran her hand through Conan's hair, something I could tell she loved doing.

"Oh Conan," Rachel whispered. Red had seeped across his face and through to his ears, and he giggled vaguely, slumping until he was horizontal on the couch.

"Conan!" both Rachel and I exclaimed, waking Moore in the process. I dropped to Rachel's side and she subconsciously whapped my shoulder, probably for bringing the drink in the first place.

Moore shuffled past the couch with a glance down at Conan. "He'll be out for a few hours at the least," he mumbled through the cigarette that had appeared in his mouth. Taking the bottle from me, he looked at it, then the wet gray tiles, and added, "He drank about two or three cups, judging from the amount of liquid that's spilled. Clean it up before the smell sticks." With that, he grabbed the bowl of macaroni in front of Conan and retreated to the kitchen. He scratched his stubble loudly as he went. Rachel and I jumped to attention when we heard the bottle crash into the recycling against other bottles and countless cans.

-

Rachel had me put away the mop and small bucket we had used to clean up the liquor. Afterwards, we had our cold lunches. I convinced Rachel to return to school, telling her that I would keep an eye on Conan. Now it was two hours later.

Since then I had taken Conan's still unconscious form to my room and stripped him of his children clothes and glasses. I dressed him in a clean pair of my pajama pants and left them tied about as much as I would need them to be. After that, it was simply a matter of placing him in my bed and waiting.

Conan's body writhed under the covers, and he began speaking, screaming.

Watching him scared me.

He was _hissing_, then his voice was breaking. Then hissing, then breaking again.

"Conan. No, no, you're not here. Not real."

_"Then why are you talking to me?"_

"Get out of my room."

_"But it's not yours anymore. It's mine."_

"What?"

_"You're dead."_

"I'm not! You don't exist!"

_"You're Jimmy. Jimmy is dead."_

"I made you up!"

_"But we can't be the same. No one thinks we are."_

"But I'm still myself! You're nothing but a disguise!"

_"I'm Conan."_

"No, you aren't!"

_"But it's what everyone calls me."_

"You don't exist! Stop it!"

_"Why-"_

"Stop it!"

_"Why are you making Rachel sad?" _

"It's not my fault! I want to go back to her!"

_"Rachel... She hates you."_

"I love Rachel, and she loves me. She _loves _me! I heard it myself!"

_"No, I heard it. She told _me

"I _am_ you!"

_"No, Rachel hates you. She likes me. She said I'm sweet and an angel."_

"She never said that."

_"Exactly, she told _me_, not you." _

"If she said that I would've heard it! I would remember!"

_"She told _me_. Not you. She hates you." _

"No! No, Rachel loves me!"

_"Then tell her I'm not real if you really think that."_

"I can't!"

That's when his voice gave out. I was glad his eyes stayed shut the entire time; that would've sent more than just a chill down my -spine. He was asleep again in a moment.

-

At around the three-hour mark, Rachel returned home to find me asleep in front of my own bedroom door. What woke me was the door opening inwards. I fell backwards and saw Kudo looking wearily down at me. He was himself again. Silently, I allowed myself a smile and stretched to a stand, careful of my foot this time.

Rachel stopped walking in mid-step as she passed my room on the way to hers, still staring straight ahead. "You jerk," she said, trying to hide her happiness. In seemingly one fast motion, she dropped her karate uniform and bag and launched herself into Kudo's arms. "Jimmy!"

As Rachel swept on about how worried she was about him after seeing him just fall down a flight of stairs and all that, I stood back in quiet, temporary contentment. I noticed dark circles under his eyes, and the happy tears that washed over the drying streaks of blood that streamed from his eyes as well. Rachel thumbed the blood away from his eyes and ears, getting worked up with fret.

Kudo shushed her gently, pulling her to him tighter and cooing to her, all things he hadn't gotten the chance to do the last time. "I'm here with you, and that's all that matters." Suddenly, he was thrown to his knees in a coughing fit, falling away from Rachel.

Something was different from last time. Something was wrong. I stuck the upper half of my body from the hallway into the main room, shouting, "Detective Moore, call an ambulance!" Moore snapped awake, and as soon as I saw him reach for the phone, I turned back to Kudo.

"Jimmy!" she exclaimed, sticking to his side. I spotted blood splatter onto his hand and absently handed a handkerchief to Rachel, who ran the cloth over his mouth. He managed to smirk when his chest settled for the moment. Before he had a chance to begin coughing again, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, repeating his name over and over. "Please be okay," she squeaked, nuzzling her forehead against his shoulder.

He chuckled her name, "Rachel. Why are you crying?" What was wrong, I knew then, was that his body had had enough. It was going to give out. I felt my face drain of blood as I watched them. They had killed each other, Jimmy and Conan.

Rachel continued to fall apart. She waited a long time before responding. "I'm not crying," she recited. Her voice shook and kept breaking. Her own tears slid continuously down her face, which was twisted by distress. Somehow, with patches of red that were there for so many reasons, puffed eyes, and pouting lips, she was still pretty. I knew that was what Kudo had to be thinking, too.

His eyes clamped shut when his heart gave him a good jolt. His own voice shattered in a strained scream. Hissing, he struggled closer to her as if he just wanted to breathe her.

My heart swelled, because at the very least, Kudo could finally tell Rachel how he felt about her, after waiting for so long. "Rach," he rasped. At last, he could tell her in his own voice, like he had kept saying he needed to. I stayed back respectively, leaving them plenty of room. She hadn't heard him. "Rach."

"Yeah, Jimmy?" she asked, biting down sobs.

"Rachel-"

"What is it?

"...Jimmy?

"Jimmy!"

"Kudo!" I yelped, despite my prediction and crashed to my knees. My body carried me in a crawl shakily over to him when I swore I couldn't have moved then. Rachel watched in a trance as I mechanically placed my fingers on Jimmy's neck. I gulped and feared the worst. I was right; there was nothing.

No...

With wide eyes, I fell backwards to a sitting position, which hopefully let Rachel know what she needed to; my mouth wouldn't produce any noise. Her gasps rattled her chest and she bit her sleeve in vain to stop crying.

"No!" she screeched, burying her face in his chest. His head fell back as she held him tighter, trying to jar him awake. Sure, I'd seen people cling to their loved ones and mourn, but the intensity Rachel had was far outweighing. My face was frozen in surprise, and I shook my head in disbelief.

Dammit, I knew he was going to die, so why was I feeling so busted up inside? Before I really knew it, my own chest heaved and racked; my teeth dug into my bottom lip harder than I thought possible. Subconsciously, I scooted to rest my back on the wall and concentrated on slowing my breathing.

Moore sighed, watching Rachel crumble. His face was full of distress for a moment, then he conjured an expression only dads can have and reluctantly pulled his daughter away from Kudo's body. Rachel turned and hugged Moore instead, in hysterics by now. "Shh, sweetie. Shhh." He kissed the top of her head repeatedly, stroking her hair as he did.

She took a clumsy step back to escape to her room, tripping over her things and into me. I hadn't even noticed I was in her way. Embracing me as well, she panted out sobs into my neck. In a few deep gulps of air, she was breathing normally with the exception of a few short whimpers; it was the same for me. I petted her hair just as Moore had and laid my cheek on her head, letting my eyes slide shut. "Why," choked Rachel.

"Rachel," I began, "I need to tell you something... About Conan."


End file.
